


Annie's news

by Laramie



Series: Things you said [19]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-24 18:06:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4929802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laramie/pseuds/Laramie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Many years after Downton, Jimmy and Thomas have made their own family with Anna and their goddaughter Joanne. The Great War is over and Joanne has some news.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Annie's news

**January 1946**

"I've got something to tell you," Annie said, putting her glass down on the table next to her empty plate.

Thomas shot Jimmy an _'I told you so'_ look. Ever since she had invited her godfathers for dinner at her tiny new house, Thomas had suspected that Annie had news. "Out with it, then," Thomas said, while Jimmy was distracted by sticking his tongue out at Thomas.

"Pipe down, Tick," Annie said, catching Jimmy. "This is important. I wanted to tell you I'm pregnant."

Thomas's mouth fell open, and he just stared at Annie, overwhelmed. Meanwhile, Jimmy lurched out of his seat and stumbled round to hug her, slapping her back and mumbling: "Fantastic… Fantastic…"

When Jimmy released Annie, Thomas reached for her hand and squeezed it. "That's brilliant. And so soon after you got married - you won't have long on your own."

There was something slightly off about Annie's answering smile.

Thomas narrowed his eyes. "Is that _why_ you got married?"

"Don't tell mum," Annie said at once. "She hasn't realised."

"I don't think we're ones to judge intimacy before marriage," Jimmy said, smirking at Thomas around the cigarette he was lighting.

"We won't tell her," Thomas promised, rubbing the steel ring on his finger. "And we're very happy for you."

Annie beamed. "Thanks."

* * *

**(Next morning)**

For many people, Saturday was a day to relax, and maybe to get some errands and chores done. Not so for Jimmy Kent, who had recently started giving piano lessons on Saturdays in addition to his three-days-a-week working as a bicycle repairman at the shop down the road. He had begun the bike repair job about seven years ago, just before the war, having taken wholeheartedly to the bike as a means of transport in a busy city and also to fixing his bicycle himself.

Thomas teased him about never figuring out what he wanted to do, but the truth was that Jimmy got bored. He had enjoyed his first job working in the pub for a little while, until he didn't any more; he had never really taken to serving in their clock shop, but he had enjoyed playing the piano at the restaurant - until he didn't any more. Same went for the second pub he worked in. He still enjoyed the bike repairs, but he missed music, too, so he had begun the piano teaching which was the reason for his lack of a decent lie-in today.

His first student was not until 10, however, and it was only 8:45, so he had a while. Thomas had already crept out to open the shop for the Saturday boy - Thomas refused to give him a key - and crawled back in with Jimmy still in his trousers and blue shirt. The cold had been clinging to Thomas's clothes and skin when he returned, but Jimmy still rolled over to sprawl half-atop him. He wished Thomas did not have to get up on Saturday mornings, but they could not lose the custom. It was mostly single men who came in on Saturdays, since they usually worked during the week. One of them had almost caused a problem once upon a time. Jimmy shuffled closer to Thomas; that was over with now, and they had gained a friend from the ordeal.

"You awake?" Thomas murmured.

Jimmy lifted his head to smile at Thomas. "Unfortunately."

Thomas smiled back and stroked Jimmy's bare back above his pyjama trousers. "Morning, then."

"Morning, god-grandfather-to-be," Jimmy replied.

As pleased as Thomas was by the prospect of another baby in the family, he knew that Jimmy was just as delighted. It had worried Thomas once, Jimmy's affection for small children - he had feared that he was keeping Jimmy from something he wanted - but Jimmy had unwaveringly repeated: "I only like 'em when I can give them back - I don't wanna deal with the shit and the mess and the cryin'." From that and from the brief flicker of indifference that crossed his face whenever he did give a baby back to its parents, Thomas decided to believe him. Jimmy _liked_ children, yes, but he didn't _want_ one.

For Thomas, it was different. He had been aware for a very long time that he would almost certainly not have children of his own. He knew he would always wonder what it would have been like - but there was Annie. She had always felt like a daughter to him, especially after John died. And now she was pregnant herself. Thomas smiled at the thought, looking up at the ceiling as he let his fingers drift up and down Jimmy's spine.

Wriggling further up Thomas's body, Jimmy leaned on his left elbow; in the process, Thomas's hand slipped onto Jimmy's bum. Jimmy cupped Thomas's cheek with his other hand, stroking his thumb across Thomas's cheekbone. "You're soppy," Jimmy said affectionately, smiling down at Thomas before leaning in to kiss him. Jimmy kept the kisses short and mostly chaste, only occasionally bringing in a hint of tongue. Their breathing was the only sound in the quiet room, underpinned by the bustle of the city beyond the walls of their flat. They kissed until Thomas felt like a blubbery mess on the mattress.

Eventually, Jimmy pulled back fractionally. "Could spend all day kissin' you," he rumbled, even though Thomas could feel his body's desire for more against his hip.

Thomas wanted to tease gently: 'now who's soppy?', but he did not want to make Jimmy feel silly for saying the sort of thing that Thomas so loved to hear (and so rarely did). Instead, with a final kiss, he murmured: "You ought to be getting up."

"Mm…" Jimmy traced Thomas's lips with the pads of his fingers. "All right." He rolled out of bed and turned to the wardrobe; Thomas felt an almost painful jolt of affection for the dimples in his back.

"I'll call Anna later," Thomas said. "She's probably worrying."

"I don't doubt it," Jimmy said wryly, pulling a shirt and a pair of trousers out of the wardrobe. "Mind you, havin' Annie put her through the wringer. It's probably natural."

"Yeah," Thomas agreed, thinking back to the night of Annie's birth. The memory was growing hazy after 20 years, but the fear had stayed with him. It had obviously stuck in Anna's mind too - and John was not around to help her now.

* * *

**June 1946**

"I can't do it," Anna said, wringing her hands in Annie's hall, having arrived from York in a panic that Annie had gone into labour earlier than expected.

" _Yes_ , you can," Jimmy said firmly.

"No, no, I nearly lost her when I was giving birth to her, I can't do it again! I can't watch her going through that!"

"You won't lose her," Thomas said. "She's young and strong. She'll be fine."

"I'm not going in there!" Anna said in a shrill voice.

"Please, Mrs Bates," Ben said quietly. "You're the only one who can look after her. Don't leave her with just the midwife."

Anna looked between her three male companions, none of whom could go into the bedroom with her baby. She squeezed her hands together. "Yes, of course I'll go in," she said more calmly, visibly steeling herself. "I just need a moment - I need to be calm for her."

Amid all three of them reaching out comforting hands, Anna took deep breaths.

"You can do it," Jimmy assured her.

Anna nodded. "All right, all right, I'm ready," she said, spinning around to face Annie's bedroom door.

"Go steady," Thomas cautioned.

"I'm not infirm yet," she retorted, pushing through the door. Thomas, Jimmy and Ben had a brief glimpse of the bedroom, the brown bedsheets, a white-uniformed midwife and, in the centre of it all, Annie.

Then Anna shut the door and they were left waiting in the hall, standing awkwardly, pacing, and slumping to sit on the floor, until eventually Thomas and Jimmy persuaded Ben to go downstairs. They could hear Annie screaming; Ben had a fixed, glassy-eyed expression. If he had had pale skin, he would probably have been grey-faced. As it was, he looked shell-shocked.

"God, what have I done to her?" he whispered at one point. Jimmy disappeared to make some tea, which none of them drank. Thomas offered Ben a wan smile, his attention trained on the bedroom above them.

After what felt like lifetimes, Annie's screams quietened down. The three men looked up, as though they could look through the living room ceiling and the bedroom's floor just through the force of their desperation. Ben got to his feet. They waited in tense silence.

A baby's wail floated down to them.

Ben began to cry.

**Author's Note:**

> In a departure from my usual practice, the title is not a variation on the prompt. The prompt was: "I'm not going in there," from Abby.


End file.
